
NO PLAYS EXCHANGE©. 




a RICE 
PUDDING 



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A RICE PUDDING 



% &amtty in Ctoo %th 



BY 



ESTHER B. TIFFANY 

AUTHOR OF "THAT PATRICK" AND " YOUNG MR. PRITCHARD" 




BOSTON 



<&*J^/Js&J*r~?2^l> 



1889 






CHARACTERS 
JOHN RICHARDS. 

DR. THWAITE A young physician 

MRS. RICHARDS Young wife of Richard* 

MARION Younger sister of Richards 

ELLEN O'SHAUGHNESSY A cook 




COPYRIGHT, 1888, 

By Walter H. Baker & Co. 



NOTE. — The ladies can be partially dressed for the reception, under 
their big aprons, in Act I., and the room can be partly cleared by Richards 
during Mrs. R.'s and Marion's conversation on the dress, which would 
make only a short wait between the acts necessary. 



IL-S9Y 



H 



A RICE PUDDING. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Dining-room of new house. Room filled with 
packing boxes, pictures, rolls of carpets, shades, tubs, 
kitchen utensils, etc. Enter Mrs. R. and Marion in 
high-necked, long-sleeved aprons. 

Mrs. R. {despairingly). Not a carpet down but this ! 

Mar. Painters and plumbers all over the house ! 

Mrs. R. The furnace not in ! 

Mar. Not a chair to sit on — 

Mrs. R. Or a table to eat off of — 

Mar. Or a bed to sleep on — 

Mrs. R. Or a servant to cook anything — 

Mar. Or anything to cook ! 

Mrs. R. And yet they all promised faithfully to have 
everything in order by to-day. 

Mar. It hardly looks as if we could have our reception 
here by next Thursday, does it ? 

Mrs. R. Why, I had been thinking we might take a 
leisure hour this morning to write the invitations — but it 
doesn't look much like leisure hours ! 

Mar. Come, let's unpack the china, anyway. 

Mrs. R. There ! the boxes are still nailed up, and Peter 
promised to have them all ready for us. Never mind, we'll 
hang the pictures. Where's the step-ladder ? Oh ! here. 

Mar. Now, I'll climb up, and you hand me the picture. 
I think the Madonna would look well here — don't you? 
{Mounts ladder.) 

Mrs. R. Got it ? Ouick ! I cannot hold it — 

M/R. Wait! 

Mrs. R. Oh, there ! we've smashed it. {Between them 
pictun' falls to floor.) 

3 



4 A RICE PUDDING. 

Mar. John will say we ought to have waited for him. 
{Descends /adder.) 

Mrs. R. Did you ever see anything like the way those 
painters have splashed these windows ? Will it ever come 
off? Why, who's that ? 

(Enter Ellen.) 

Ellen. And this is the house 1 was to come to ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, there you are at last ! Take your things 
right off, and begin on these dirty windows. 

Ellen. Shure an' it wasn't to wash windys I hired out. 

Mrs. R. (to Marion). It's true. I didn't stipulate any- 
thing about washing windows. I engaged her to cook. 

Mar. (aside). Well, you'd better set her at cooking, then. 

Mrs. R. (aside). Very well. (To Ellen.) On the 
whole, you may go into the kitchen and cook. 

Ellen. And what wull I be afther cookin'? 

Mrs. R. (aside). Very true again. What can she cook ? 
We shall have to send her out for provisions. (To Ellen.) 
Well — er — let me see — what's your name ? 

Ellen. Miss Ellen O'Shaughnessy. 

Mrs. R. Ellen ? Oh, that will never do. My name is 
Ellen, too. 

Mar. Haven't you any other name ? 

Ellen. Shure an' my other name's Miss O'Shaughnessy. 

Mrs. R. Well, haven't you any middle name — or nickname 
— that they called you at home ? 

Ellen (reflecting). They used to call me cabbage-head 
when I wint to school. 

Mrs. R. I think I'll call you Nelly. 

Ellen. Shure an' it's you we moight call Nelly, and me 
stick to me rightful name. 

Mrs. R. (to Marion). Do you think she means to be im- 
pertinent, Marion ? We must assert our dignity at any cost. 

Mar. No — she's only a cabbage-head, as she says. 

Mrs. R. Very well, Nelly. The other servants haven't 
come yet, so you'd better go yourself and buy some pro- 
visions. You can get some — some — 

Mar. Potatoes. 

Mrs. R. Yes — potatoes. 

Ellen. How many ? 

Mrs. R. (aside). How many, Marion ? 

Mar. Oh, dear, 1 wish I had my cook book, Why, I 
suppose — we are such a small family — about — a — quart. 



A RICE PUDDING. 5 

Mrs. R. {to Ellen). A quart of potatoes. 

Ellen. A quart of pertaties — is it ? 

Mrs. R. And some — some — 

Mar. Rice — John is very fond of rice. 

Mrs. R. Oh, yes — rice. {Aside.) How much ? A peck ? 

Mar. Yes — I suppose so. 

Mrs. R. {aloud). A peck of rice — 

Ellen. Peck of rice — 

Mrs. R. And a pound of butter — and a pound of flour 

— and — and — 

Ellen. A pound of flour, did ye say ? 

Mrs. R. {with dignity). I said a pound of flour. {Aside.) 
Marion, you don't think she's laughing — do you ? 

Mar. Why, I don't see anything to laugh at. 

Mrs. R. No, of course. Only I shouldn't want her to 
suspect that we've neither of us kept house before. 

Mar. Why, Ellen, as if I hadn't been to cooking- 
school — 

Mrs. R. I know it, Marion. If I hadn't you to fall 
back on, what should I do ? What meat shall we have ? 

Mar. Steak is the easiest. 

Mrs. R. {to Ellen). Some steak. 

Ellen. Wan slice? 

Mrs. R. One slice ? Mercy, I could eat a whole slice 
myself! Four — five slices — and a quart of spinach — and 

— and — a loaf of bread — and — well that will do for the 
present. We'll have an early dinner to-day. You can broil 
the steak, and cook a quart of rice — and boil the potatoes 
and the spinach — and have it ready at one o'clock. Here's 
some money. 

Ellen. I'll ax wan o' thim nice-lookin' plumbers to go 
along wid me. {Exit.) 

Mrs. R. How was my manner, Marion ? Not too digni- 
fied ? 

Mar. You did beautifully. 

Mrs. R. I don't want to be too dignified. I don't want 
to have my servants afraid of me. 

Mar. I don't think she looked exactly afraid of you. 

Mrs. R. A knock ! Come in ! 

{Enter Thwaite.) 

Thwaite {bowing). I beg your pardon. I tried to ring 
the doorbell, but there seems to be no doorbell yet. 

Mrs. R. Oh, no, there is — isn't any — anything — yet. 



6 A RICE PUDDING. 

Thwaite. My name is Thwaite. I have the good for- 
tune to be your next-door neighbor, and, as I noticed you 
were moving in to-day, I just ran over to see if there were 
not some way in which you could make me useful. 

Mrs. R. You are very kind, Mr. Thwaite. 

Mar. We are extremely obliged. 

Thwaite. Not at all. 

Mar. We are rather at a standstill. 

Mrs. R. Perhaps, if it wouldn't be asking too much, we 
should like that box opened. 

Thwaite. I'll go and find a hammer. (Exit.) 

Mrs. R. Marion, we'll ask him to the reception. 

Mar. I wonder if my pink surah will do. 

Mrs. R. No, indeed. You are to wear your white net. 

Mar. Men are convenient sometimes. 
(Enter Thwaite.) 

Thwaite. This box ? (Opens box.) There you are. 
What next ? 

Mrs. R. That barrel, if it's not asking too much ! 

Thwaite. Only too happy. Might I be permitted ? 
( Unbuttons coat.) 

Mrs. R. Oh, certainly. (Thwaite takes off coat.) 

Mar. You are getting all dusty. Here, take this apron. 
(Buttons Thwaite into apron, which has been lying across 
box.) 

Thwaite. Now I am ready for anything. 

Mrs. R. Come, Marion, we'll be unpacking the china. 
(They impack the china while Thwaite works on barrel.) 

Mar. (running to mantel). We'll have these two vases 
here. 

Mrs. R. And the clock in the middle. Oh, Mr. Thwaite, 
can you lift that heavy clock off of the ironing-board, so that 
we can get some idea how the room will look when every- 
thing is in order ? 

Thwaite (lifting clock with difficulty). I can say with 
truth this is the first moment in your company that time has 
hung heavy on my hands. (Puts clock on the mantel.). 

Mrs. R. I wish time were always so quickly disposed of. 

Mar. I am glad you were not tempted to kill time by 
smashing the clock. 

Mrs. R. {ecstatically). How sweet it looks there ! Stand 
back both of you and see what a lovely effect ! The clock in 
the middle, and those two vases on either side. 



A RICE PUDDING. 7 

Mar. Beautiful ! 

Thwaite. Stunning ! 

IU ;s. R. How pleased he will be ! 

Thwaite {aside). What he ? Oh, yes — their father — 
the old gentleman I have noticed overseeing the workmen. 

Mrs. R. Nevermind about that barrel now, Mr. Thwaite; 
let's hang pictures. 

. Thwaite. The profession of hangman is new to me, but 
I will do my best. {Mounts step-ladder with pictured) I 
am rather afraid, under the circumstances, of so long a cord. 

Mar. Afraid ? 

Thwaite. Yes. Give a man rope enough, you know, 
he'll be sure to hang himself. There — is that straight ? 
{Enter Ellen ) 

Ellen. The range is a-roarin' awful. 

Mrs. R. Oh, Marion, you know all about ranges. 

Mar. {aside). I wish I had my cook book. {Aloud.) 
Very well, Nelly, I'll see what's the matter. {Exit.) 

Mrs. R. {sitting down on lowest round of ladder, talking 
up to Thwaite). We'll wait till she comes back. She's 
the one to settle about the pictures. 

Thwaite. Is your sister artistic ? 

Mrs. R. Yes, indeed Artistic, and literary, and scien- 
tific, and all that sort of thing, but lately . he's given that up, 
and has gone into cooking. 

Thwaite. Cooking ? 

Mrs. R. Yes — and she knows everything that is to be 
known about cooking — theoretically. She has been to 
cooking-school. 

Thwaite. Graduated with honors, I suppose. 

Mrs R. Yes. indeed. We are going to keep the house 
together. I don't know what I should do without her knowl- 
edge. She's begun writing a cook-book, too. 

Thwaite. Illustrated ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, certainly. It's going to be lovely. She 
made such a charming sketch for the book, the other day, of 
some boiled potatoes ; only by the time she had finished, the 
potatoes were all cold, and didn't taste as nice as they might ; 
but, then, as long as she had forgotten to add salt, and 
boiled them about a half hour too long, it didn't so much 
matter. 

Thwaite. She goes into things very thoroughly, doesn't 
she ? 



8 A RICE PUDDING. 

Mks. R. Yes, that's her way ; and she's so original, too. 
Most of her receipts are to be original. 

Thwaite. I must have a copy of the book as soon as it's 
out. 

Mrs. R. Perhaps you've noticed how occasionally she 
goes off into a fit of abstraction. It used to be that, when 
she looked that way, she was composing sonnets, but now 
it's puddings. 

Thwaite. I wish she would compose me a pudding. 

Mrs. R. And she's so practical. 

Thwaite. I should hardly have thought it. 

Mrs. R. No, you wouldn't, to look at her. But, now, she 
wanted to make some jelly for her cousin's wedding break- 
fast, and she hadn't any mould of the right size, and so what 
do you think she took. 

Thwaite. I can't imagine. 

Mrs. R. Why, an old lard pail — empty, of course. 

Thwaite. Yes, I should have advised having it empty. 

Mrs. R. And moulded the jelly in it, and it turned out 
beautifully, only, you know, on the bottom of the pail thev 
have stamped in large letters, "superfine lard," and, when 
she turned the jelly out, there was " superfine lard '' in big 
letters right on the top. 

Thwaite. I don't doubt it tasted just as well. 

Mrs. R. Well, I don't know about the taste exactly. 
You see, she had happened to forget to put any sugar or 
flavoring in it — but, then, it was so original of her to think 
of using a lard pail. 

Thwaite. Yes, I don't believe anybody but a verv 
literary person would have dreamed of moulding jelly in a 
lard pail. 

(Enter Marion.) 

Mrs. R. Well, Marion ? 

Mar. There's something very queer about the stove. I 
wonder if Mr. Thwaite — 

Thwaite. Yes, do let me take a look. {Exeunt Thwaite 
and Marion.) 

Mrs. R. It's the most evident thing! He's deeply smit- 
ten with Marion. Yes, we must have the reception, and she 
shall wear her white net. How interested he was to hear 
all about her. And how delightful to think of dear Marion 
being married and settled so near me. Why, we can sit at 
our windows and talk to each other across the lawn. But 






A RICE PUDDING. 9 

the fence must come down. {Enter Marion ) Marion, the 
fence must come down, mustn't it? and we'll have a little 
gravel path — 

Mar. What are you talking about ? 

Mrs. R. {confused). Oh, nothing — I — but what was the 
matter with the stove ? 

Mar. Oh, the draught was turned wrong. Men seem to 
know so much. {Enter Thwaite.) 

Thwaite. There's thunder in the air — look out for 
squalls. {Enter Ellen.) 

Ellen. An' 'tain't me that'll stay in a poverty-stricken 
house, where I ain't got no mop, nor no dish-pan, nor no 
soap, nor — 

Mrs. R. Oh, yes, we have. There's the mop hanging 
on the umbrella rack — and the dish-pan — oh, Mr. Thwaite, 
will you lift the Venus of Milo out of the dish-pan ? 

Thwaite. I'm afraid the Venus wouldn't be very handy 
at washing dishes. 

Ellen. An' soap. 

Mrs. R. Soap ? I certainly saw a bar of soap some- 
where. Oh, there — sticking out of the coffee-pot. 

Ellen. An' sure I niver hired out before where they 
kep' the mop on the umbrella stand and the soap in the 
coffee-pot. 

Mrs. R. Oh, we don't usually. You see, we are in a 
little confusion as yet. {Aside to Thwaite.) I am beginning 
to be afraid she may be a little quick tempered. 

Thwaite. The same suspicion crossed my mind. 

Ellen. An' wull it be in the front parlor I'll find the 
brilin' iron ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, no, it's downstairs — I'll show you — 
{Exeunt Mrs. R. and Ellen.) 

Mar. I had no idea housekeeping would be so bewilder- 
ing. 

Thwaite. You look quite exhausted. Do take a coal 
scuttle. {Tips up a coal scuttle.) 

Mar. {seating herself 071 coal scuttle). Where will you sit ? 

Thwaite. Oh, nothing could be more comfortable than 
this preserving kettle. {Seats himself on kettle.) 

Mar. I am afraid we have been encroaching on your 
time. 

Thwaite. That's what most people seem to be afraid of 
doing since I have put out my shingle. 



IO A RICE rUDDING. 

Mar. Oh, yes, you are a physician. I fcrgot. 

Thwaite. So do most people. 

Mar. I wonder if you couldn't help me in the medical 
part of my cook book. 

Thwaite. I should be charmed — 

Mar. And, by the way, have you a grandmother ? 

Thwaite. I have had several. 

Mar. Several ? 

Thwaite. My paternal grandfather married four times. 

Mar. How convenient. 

Thwaite. Do you think so ? I have always found four 
separate sets of uncles and aunts horribly confusing. 

Mar. I mean for me. 

Thwaite. For you ? 

Mar. Yes. I'm interested in grandmothers on account 
of the archaeological portion of my cook-book. ' I have col- 
lected a number of receipts which have been handed down 
from generation to generation. 

Thwaite. Oh, I thought they were to be purely original. 

Mar. All but the archaeological portion. Wny, there's 
one cake, made of honey and figs, that has come down from 
the days of Homer. 

Thwaite. It isn't a trifle musty by this time — is it ? 

Mar. And as you have had so many grandmothers, I'm 
sure they must have handed you down some delicious re- 
ceipts. (Takes out note-book.) 

Thwaite {musing). Let me see. There was a kind of 
apple-doughnut I used to have at Grandmother Blossom's. 

Mar. (.writing)* Just the thing. Apple doughnuts. 
How were they made ? 

Thwaite. Well — you take some apples — 

Mar. How many ? 

Thwaite. Oh, as many as you can conveniently carry up 
in your apron. 

Mar. (writing). Apron full of apples. 

Thwaite. Lots of spice. 

Mar. (writes). Spice. 

Thwaite. No end of sugar. 

Mar. (writes). Sugar. 

Thwaite. Same amount of butter. 

Mar. (writes). Butter — eh — isn't the receipt a trifle 
vague ? 

Thwaite. Why, I should think their vagueness was one 



A RICE PUDDING. II 

of the chief charms of archaeological receipts. If you want 
commonplace, exact receipts, you can find them in any ordi- 
nary cook-book. 

Mar. Of course. But haven't we left something out? 
Apples, spice, sugar, butter — oughtn't there to be some 
flour? 

Thwaite. Oh, yes — flour to taste. And fry half an 
hour in boiling fat. 

Mar. And what heading shall I put to the receipt as 
regards its wholesomeness ? I always make them like this, 
" Bread, nutritious ; mince pie, nightmare-ish ; codfish, good 
for brain, etc." 

Thwaite. I think you might mark this receipt "fatal." 

Mar. You seem to have survived it. 

Thwaite. Oh, well, survival of the fittest ; but I some- 
times think it was responsible for Grandfather Blossom's hav- 
ing had so many wives. 

Mar. And now can't you give me some items to go under 
" Domestic Economy." 

Thwaite. Grandmother Blossom, number four, used to 
say that housekeeping was cheaper for two than one. You 
might make a note of that. 

Mar. (writing). Two than one. 

Thwaite. And I have heard that Grandmother Blossom, 
number three, used to say that a young physician would 
never get into practice till he got married. Might note that 
down, too. 

Mar. I think I have heard that before, and I hardly 
think I could put that down under the head of Domestic 
Economy — could I ? 

Thwaite. Might set it down under the head of Domes- 
tic Bliss. 

(Enter Mrs. R.) 

Mrs. R. (enthusiastically). Oh, Marion ! The tinman 
has just sent up the loveliest colander, and the sweetest 
little saucepan, with a tin cover and a knob on top, and lunch 
will be ready soon, so let's set the table. 

Thwaite (rising). By the way, where is the table ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, yes, I forgot. 

Thwaite. Suppose — 

Mrs. R. (finger on lip). Hush ! Look at Marion. She 
has an idea. 

Thwaite. A sonnet, or a pudding ? 



12 A RICE PUDDING. 

Mrs. R. Neither. Some strikingly original suggestion 
about a table. You'll see. 

Mar. Why not lay the ironing-board across two tubs ? 

MRS. R. {triumphantly). There — didn't I tell you? 

Thwaite. Great head ! 

Mrs. R. {to Thwaite). Please lift Dickens and Thack- 
eray out of the vvashtub ? 

Thwaite. Rather needless, wasn't it, putting Dickens 
and Thackeray into the washtub? If it had been Ouida 
now, or Zola — {They tip up two tubs and lay the ironing- 
board across.) 

Mrs. R. Now, the table cloth. There's one in the box. 
{Lay cloth.") We haven't any cream, but I'll put the silver 
cream jug on, for looks, and I'm dying to see my pretty new 
plates. {They set table.) There! Doesn't it look sweet? 
How pleased John will be ! 

Thwaite (aside). John ! Who's John, I wonder, and 
when is the paternal likely to turn up? 

Mar. Here comes Nelly. 

(Enter Ellen, with large platter of rice.) 

Mrs. R. My patience, Nelly ! What did you cook all 
that rice for? I said only a quart. 

Ellen. An' shure an' there's anythur dish as big as 
that. (Exit.) 

Mrs. R. She said they called her cabbage-head, and I 
don't wonder ! 

Thwaite. Why don't you call her Cabby for short ? 
(Enter Ellen, with another large platter of rice.) 

Ellen. There, mum. (Exit.) 

Mar. Do you know, Ellen, I remember now that rice 
has a very queer way of swelling when cooked. I don't 
believe it was all her fault, after all. 

(Enter Ellen with a small vegetable dish.) 

Mrs. R. What is in that little empty dish ? 

Ellen. Shure an' it's thim greens. (Exit.) 

Thwaite (examining dish). No, it's not empty. In the 
furthermost corner I do see a flabby, pale, greenish deposit 
that might be spinach. 

Mrs. R. And I told her to cook a whole quart. I am 
sure she ate the rest herself. 

Mar. Ellen, I'm afraid — it just occurs to me that 
spinach has a very extraordinary way of shrinking when 
cooked — hasn't it, Dr. Thwaite? 



A RICE PUDDING. 13 

Thwaite. I believe it is rather of the shrinking, modest- 
violet type of vegetable. 

{Enter Ellen with another vegetable dish.) 

Mrs. R. What! Only one potato! Why didn't you 
bring in the rest ? 

Ellen. Rest ? There ain't no rest. Didn't ye ax me 
to buy a quart of pertaties, and didn't this pertaty fill the 
measure ? (Exit.) 

Thwaite. No "small potatoes " about that cook. 
(Enter Ellen with pile of steaks on platter?) 

Mrs. R. Why, Nelly ! Did you buy out the meat 
market ? 

Ellen. Shure an' ve ordered four slices of steak. 

Mrs. R. Slices ? 

Mar. Ellen, it occurs to me that a slice of steak is a 
different thing from a slice of beef or mutton — isn't it, Dr. 
Thwaite ? 

Thwaite. I have a vague idea of some such invidious 
distinction. 

Mrs. R. Well, never mind. Let's sit down. Oh, don't 
put on your coat, for if you do, it will make us feel as if we 
ought to do our hair and take off our aprons. May I trouble 
you to carve, Dr. Thwaite? (They all sit down.) 

Thwaite. The first meal at your own — ironing-board. 

Mrs. R. Yes, isn't it charming? I always knew I should 
adore housekeeping ! 

Mar. Don't let's ever board again ? 

Mrs. R. But John was right, after all, about its taking 
some time to get settled. Why, I fully expected by lunch 
time to-day to have the house in perfect order and be sitting 
down with my fancy work. 

Mar. So'did I. A little rice, Dr. Thwaite ? 

Thwaite. Thanks. Oh, not so much, please. I mean 
to leave a little for you to sketch for your cook-book. 

Mrs. R. (to Thwaite). She's in a brown study again. 
(Aloud.) What is it, Marion? 

Mar. Oh, nothing — merely I was inventing some rice- 
pudding receipts. This rice will last us several weeks. 

Mrs. R. (aside to Thwaite). Frugal, too, you see. 
(Aloud, dubiously.) We couldn't have rice pudding at the 
reception, could we? We shall expect you at our reception, 
Dr. .Thwaite. 



14 A RICE PUDDING. 

Thwaite. With pleasure ; and may I have some rice 
pudding at the reception ? 

Mrs! R. All you want. 

{Enter Ellen.) 

Ellen. There's a lady downstairs as wants to spake to 
yer. 

Mrs. R. Not a caller? 

Ellen. She"s afther sayin' she just run round to look at 
the house and the family in case she'd think of hiring out 
here to do second work. 

Mrs. R. {rising). Oh, yes, that must be the parlor girl I 
engaged. 

Thwaite {rising; to Ellen). Tell the lady downstairs 
that if she wants reference for these people to come to me. 
I can give them both excellent characters. (Ellen tosses 
her head. Exeunt Mrs. R.. Marion, and "Ellen.) 

Thwaite. Well, it's an ill wind that blows nol ody <?ood. 
If 1 had been oven nn with patients, I should not now I e 
enjoying the privilege of making a Chinaman of myself, 
eating rice. Charming Rirls — especially — rather n e ; ! n . 
though, of old paterfamilias to flaunt such a siren in the lace 
of a lonely bachelor like myself. Shouldn't wonder if 1 
might be tailed in to attend him — rather a choleric old chap 
as I rememLer. Used to htar him £oing for the carpenters. 
{Continues eating ; enter Richards.) 

Rich, {aside). A man ! That's not very queer, though, 
as there are men all over the 1 ouse. He hardly looks like a 
painter, however, or a plumber, either. Eating! Actually 
eating off my ironing-board. Seems quite at home, too. 
Best china out, and the silver. Ahem ! 

Thwaite {turning round). Oh ! {Aside.) Pater- 
familias. {Aloud, and rising.) Good day, sir. 

Rich. Good day. 

Thwaite. The ladies ate below, interviewing a servant. 
I am your next-door neighbor. I was able to render thtm 
some trifling service, and they kindly invited me to lunch. 
{Tries to unbutton apron; aside.) How does the con- 
founded thing come off? 

Rich. I see. Very much obliged for your kind atten- 
tions. 

Thwaite {aside). Looks it. {Aloud.) Not at all. 
Your charming daughters tell me — 

Rich. My what ? 



A RICE PUDDING. 1 5 

Thwaite. Your charming daughters, sir ; daughters, too 

— if I may be permitted to say so — that any man might 
be proud of. (Struggles with, apron. Aside.) Confound 
it ! I defy Alexander the Great to assert his dignity attired 
in a checked pinafore ! 

Rich. Daughters, sir ? What daughters, sir ? What age 
do you take me for ? Talk about wives, and you'll come 
rather nearer the truth. 

Thwaite {aside). Wives — wives! He's a perfect old 
Mormon. 

Rich. One of those ladies you refer to is my wife. 

Thwaite {relieved). Oh — only one ! (Aside.) Which? 
Fatal question. (Aloud; agitated.) May I ask you, sir, if 
the young lady with the beautiful complexion and lovely hair 
and exquisite smile — is your wife r 

Rich. I didn't ask your opinion of my wife's complexion 

— or hair or smile. 

Thwaite. I'm quite aware of the fact — but — but — is 
she — your wife ? 

Rich. Yes, sir; she certainly is, and has been so this 
twelve months. 

Thwaite (aside). So that claim's pre empted ! And 
yet I rather fancied she liked me. Well — the safest course 
for me is not to see her any more. (Aloud.) May I trouble 
you to unfasten my pinafore ? 

Rich. Certainly. 

Thwaite. Thanks. (Puts on coat.) Perhaps, as I can 
be of no further assistance, I will take my leave. A physi- 
cian's duties, you know^ 

Rich. Oh, do not let me detain you a moment from your 
patients. Some of them may be dying this very minute. 

Thwaite. I shouldn't be at all surprised if they were. 

Rich, (aside). Nor I. 

Thwaite. May I trouble you to carry my good-by to 
your — to the ladies ? 

Rich. It will give me great pleasure. 

Thwaite. Good afternoon. 

Rich. Good afternoon. (Exit Thwaite.) 

Rich. Took me for the father of my own wife! Impudent 
young whipper-snapper ! Because I happen to have a few 
gray hairs, he sets me down as an antiquated — superannu- 
ated — 

(Enter Mrs. R.) 



l6 A RICE PUDDING. 

Mrs. R. Oh, John ! I thought you'd never come ! Isn't 
it lovely? 1 never was so happy in all my life. Doesn't 
the clock look sweet on the mantelshelf? Dr. Thwaite put 
that up, and the picture, too, and opened the box of china, 
and fixed the stove, and gave Marion lots of points for her 
book, and — but, by the way, where is he? 

Rich. At the bedside ot a dying patient. 

Mrs. R. Oh, called off, was he ? Isn't it lovely that he 
lives just next door ? 

Rich, (sternly}. It strikes me, Ellen, that is a decidedly 
childish, not to say infantine, garment of yours. 

Mrs. R. What ? My pinafore ? 

Rich. For a woman, a married woman, I should call it a 
most undignified article of attire. Some fool might almost 
take you — for — for my daughter. 

Mrs. R. Oh, it isn't only the fools that do that, John, 
dear — Oh, and I want to tell you, we've decided on next 
Thursday for the reception. 

Rich. What reception ? 

Mrs. R. Our reception. And Dr. Thwaite's coming, and 
Marion is going to wear her white net, and I'm going to 
wear — 

Rich. A white wig and a gown of your grandmother's. 

Mrs. R. What ? 

Rich. A gown of your grandmother's, I say. Look here, 
Ellen, I've had about enough of this. Either you've got to 
give up society, or you must dress in a manner more accor- 
dant with my years. I'm tired of being taken for your 
father. 

Mrs. R. Then you won't let me have the reception ? 

Rich. I've given you the conditions. 

Mrs. R. You can't really mean I'm to dye my hair and 
wear an old dowdy — 

Rich. If you really cared for me, you would take pleasure 
in dressing in a more dignified — 

Mrs. R. Oh, John ! What has come over you! You 
are joking. 

Rich. Joking? I feel like joking. No — not a word 
more. I won't have any and every young sprig making love 
to you, and treating me as if I were an octogenarian. 
(Enter Marion.) 

Mar. The furniture is come. 

Mrs. R. (despairingly). Oh, Marion ! 



A RICE PUDDING. 1? 

Mar. What's the matter ? (Richards retires up, and 
begins to carry out things, and put room to rights.} 
'Mrs. R. It's all over ! 

Mar. What ? 

Mrs. R. The reception! And I was so counting on his 
seeing you in your white net ! Marion, you know I love you ; 
there is nothing in the whole world I would not do for you — 
I would sacrifice myself for you in any conceivable way — 
except — why, even for your sake, you know — I really 
couldn't go to a reception in an unbecoming dress. 

Mar. What are you talking about ? 

Mrs. R. John refuses to let me appear in anything but 
an old gown of grandmother's. He doesn't like it because 
I look so young. And I've got to dye my hair white, too. 
Isn't it dreadful ? What shall we do ? Oh, Marion, you are 
beginning to look abstracted ! What is it ? Have you an 
idea ? Pretend it's a novel, can't you ? What would you do 
if it were in a novel ? 

Mar. Oh, in a novel nothing would be more simple. 

Mrs. R. Well! 

Mar. You would put on that lovely brocade of your 
grandmother's, and some old lace, and powder your hair — 
that's always becoming, you know — 

Mrs. R. Oh, yes ! 

Mar. And you'd look so perfectly bewitching — 

Mrs. R. Marion! 

Mar. That every one would fall in love with you. 

Mrs. R. But John wouldn't like that ! 

Mar. Even Dr. Thwaite would be carried off his feet. 
(Tragically.') John becomes wildly jealous ; there is a duel 
— Dr. Thwaite. overcome with honorable remorse at having 
wrought such desolation in a previously peaceful household, 
fires his bullet into the air — 

Mrs R. Oh! 

Mar. While John, swept away by jealous rage, aims full 
at his adversary's heart. Dr. Thwaite falls at my feet — 

Mrs. R. {excitedly). Oh, shall we be present? 

Mar. Hoarsely crying, " Fly for your life ! The police 
are on our track ! " John escapes through the pantry win- 
dow. 

Mrs. R. Oh, he couldn't — he's too stout. He'd stick 
fast. Not the pantry window, Marion. 

Mar. (resuming natural tone). You little goose ! 



IS A RICE PUDDING. 

Mrs. R. Oh, Marion, why will you work me up so? I 
declare, I seemed to see dear John stuck fast in the par.try 
window, and those horrid policemen after him. 

Mar. You'd never do for an authoress. Why, I can 
imagine the most blood-curdling situations and never once 
wink. 

Mrs. R. Well, I think it's very unkind of you, after all 
Dr. Thwaite's attentions, to kill him off in cold blood like 
that. But come, let's take a look at grandmother's brocade. 
It's up in one of the trunks. 

Mar. You surely are not thinking of — 

Mrs. R. There is no harm in looking at it — 

Mar. Ellen, you are out of your mind — This is not a 
romance. 

Mrs. R. {aside). It will be before I am through with you 
and Dr. Thwaite. {Aloicd.) There's no harm in looking at 
it anyway. Come on. {Exeunt.) 

Rich. {comi?ig forward). Poor little soul! Perhaps I 
was a trifle hasty with her. But, then — to be taken fcr her 
father ! 

{Enter Ellen, who begins to clear table.) 

Ellen. Shure an' your darters and their young man 
might have waited for yer, I'm a-tbinkin'. 

Rich. Daughters ! 

Ellen. An' you sich an ould gint, too ! Niver ye moind, 
tho', you'll soon be a-gettin' wan of 'em off your hands — 

Rich. What are you talking about ? 

Ellen. I know which of us three I'd have picked out if 
I'd had the chice, but he didn't seem to be of my way of 
thinkin'. 

Rich. Do you know that you are referring in a most 
insulting manner to my wife ? 

Ellen. Your what ? 

Rich. My wife — Mrs. Richards. 

Ellen. Wife is it? Ahem.! {Aside.) That little 
laughin' crature in a pinafore that knows about as much 
housekapin' as wan of my grandmother's little curly-tailed 
pigs. {Exit.) 

Rich. What did she mean by the "ahem"? There 
seemed to be a good deal of hidden meaning in that ahem. 
I'll dye my hair — she shall wear a wig — she shall put on 
her grandmother's dress. 

Curtain. 



A RICE PUDDING. 19 



ACT II. 

Scene. — The same room in order. At one side, buffet with 
dishes and remains -of collation. Enter Richards in 
eve fling dress. 

Rich. Six, no, seven consecutive times have I been com- 
plimented on the beauty of my daughter. Daughter, indeed ! 
When she told me she had agreed to my conditions, and 
would appear in a gown of her grandmother's, I fondly fan- 
cied she was coming to a realizing sense of her position as a 
married woman. Gown of her grandmother's ! She never 
looked so blooming and girlish in her life. Well — 1 must 
go back and see what young fool is at present asking her 
about the health of her venerable, paternal relative. 

(Exit Rich., r. Enter Thwaite in evening dress, L.) 

Thwaite. My dancing days are over ! How entrancing 
she does look this evening ! I was a fool to have come, but 
what excUse could I give ! To be sure, I might have brought 
on a dying patient. At least, I have avoided her all the 
evening. We have not exchanged two words. She prob- 
ably thinks me an unmannerly cub for my pains. Strange 
fatality that for the last three days we have constantly run 
across each other. Yesterday we discussed Ruskin for a 
half hour in the horse-car, and the day before had a most 
absorbing conversation on Esoteric Buddhism in the butch- 
er's shop, while waiting to pay for our beef and sausages. 

{Seats himself in large chair, front. Enter Ellen, who 
goes to buffet) 

Ellen. Jelly — an' i-scream an' grapes an' cake an' sand- 
wiches — an coffee ! As if I wouldn't 'a' made all them 
things as well as that — that — whaty callum — that craterer ! 
Didn't I live out two whole wakes at an iligant place, where 
the gintlemen of the fam'ly sat down ivery blissed avnin' to 
clinder all dressed up so foine in their dimond pins an' ox- 
tailed coats, atin' swaller-tailed soup out of rale old Injiany 
chany? Bedad, tho', I've kep' the women folks out of my 
kitching. They was all for makin' the jellies and cakes 
thimselves, but I soon showed 'em who was boss in that 
kitching. They'd give me warnin', only they darsn't. That 
jelly (tastes jelly) ain't bad, — nor the i-scream naythur. 
I'll just be afther puttin' a handful in my pocket for my 



20 A RICE PUDDING. 

cousin Patrick, poor b'y. He'll be a-comin' round to the 
pantry windy about this toime, I'm thinkin'. {Perceiving 
Thwaite.) Saints presarve us ! That young feller ! 

ThvVAIte. Oh, Cabby — that you ? 

Ellen. I was afther clarin' up. 

Thwaite. Clear away. 

Ellen. I will. {Aside.') Shure an' I'll clar ou!. My, 
but that i-scream feels could in my pocket. {Exit, L.) 

{Enter Mrs. Richards, r., in old-fashioned brocade, lace, 
jewels, and powdered hair.) 

Mrs. R. 1 wonder where John is. Poor fellow, he looks 
so disturbed ! He never used to be so irritable. For some 
reason Marion's receipts don't seem to agree with him 
exactly. It's very odd. {Perceives Thwaite.) Oh, Dr. 
Thwaite ! 

Thwaite. Oh ! {Confused.) 

Mrs. R. Dr. Thwaite, neither my sister nor I have ex- 
changed a word with you this evening. 

Thwaite. No — I — that is — 

Mrs. R. You are not looking yourself. Overwork ? 
Patients too many for you? 

Thwaite. No. I can't conscientiously say my patients 
are too many for me. 

Mrs. R. We hoped you might be in again and lunch 
with us. 

Thwaite. You are very kind. 

Mrs. R. Dr. Thwaite, what is it ? Have we offended 
you in any way ? I hoped we were going to be such good 
friends. 

Thwaite. So did I — 

Mrs. R. Well, what is there to prevent it ? 

Thwaite. I think I must be saying good evening. 

Mrs. R. I am sure you are in trouble. I never saw any- 
thing so gloom)' as your expression. 

Thwaite. Don't you think a man has a right to be 
gloomy when he finds the woman he loves the wife of 
another ? 

Mrs. R. {startled). Wife of another ? {Aside.) Does 
he mean me ? 

Thwaite. I see you think me very indelicate to speak of 
it, but my apparently boorish behavior needed some explana- 
tion, and then, to tell the truth, I fancied you more than half 
suspected it already. 



A RICE PUDDING. 21 

Mrs. R. Oh, no — T — {Aside.) It's all come about 
just as Marion predicted ! This unfortunate gown of grand- 
mother's is at the bottom of it, for I am sure it was Marion 
he fancied at first. Marion said he would be bewitched, and 
now — oh, dear — the duel — John — the pantry window! 
What is to be done? 

Thwaite. I have offended you, I fear. 

Mrs. R. Oh, no — that is — you couldn't help it, you 
know. It wasn't your fault. 

Thwaite. No — the sweetness, the loveliness of the rar- 
est of women — 

Mrs. R. Please don't, you mustn't — {Aside.) Oh, I 
wish he wouldn't. {Aloud.) And you have done very 
right to avoid an interview this evening. 

Thwaite. Have I appeared like an utter boor ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, no — no, indeed. 

Thwaite. It is so hard to avoid accidental meetings. 
What would you advise about it ? 

Mrs. R. I should advise strongly that you sold your 
house — broke up your practice — and left for — for the 
Sandwich Islands — to-morrow — 

Thwaite. You think there is no other honorable course ? 

Mrs. R. No other. And then the feelings of a husband 
— Have you considered the frightful consequences if his 
suspicions were once aroused ? 

Thwaite. No, I hadn't. 

Mrs. R. Just think if he should call you out, and there 
should be a duel! You, overcome with honorable remorse 
at having wrought such devastation in the bosom of a pre- 
viously united family, would, without doubt, fire your bullet 
into the air, but the unfortunate husband, carried away by 
rage and jealousy, would aim at your breast — 

Thwaite. Is he a good shot ? 

Mrs. R. You would fall at our feet, crying hoarsely, 
" Fly for your life! The police are on our track!" John 
would escape through the pantry window — no, not the pan- 
try window — 

Thwaite. I should be sorry to inconvenience him to 
such an extent. I shall leave to-morrow for the Sandwich 
Islands. 

Mrs. R. You'd better leave this very minute. Oh, dear, 
there's some one coming now! It may be John ! Just hide 
in the china closet a minute till he goes. He's ripe for 



22 A RICE PUDDING. 

pistols already. {Exit Thwaite into closet. Enter Mar- 
ion.) Oh, Mnrion, is that you ? 

Mar. {listlessly). Well, the last one is out of the house. 
{Seats herself at table -with head on hand.') 

Mrs. R. Wasn't it a great success ? 

Mar. Oh, of course. 

Mrs. R. You seemed to see a good deal of that Mr. 
Golding. 

Mar. Did I ? I forget. 

Mrs. R. What makes you so dreamy, Marion? Com- 
posing a pudding ? 

Mar. {starting itp). I detest puddings ! 

Mrs. R. {aside). Detest puddings ! She is far gone, poor 
girl! 

Mar. And as for that Dr. Thwaite of yours — 

Mrs. R. {aside) Of mine ! She little knows how nearly 
she hits the truth. 

Mar. He didn't even have the grace to bid me good 
night. 

Mrs. R. Oh, as for that, dear, he didn't bid me good 
night, either. 

Mar. Then he is a perfect boor. 

Mrs. R. Hush, Marion, I wouldn't speak quite so loud. 

Mar. Why not? 

Mrs. R. Walls have ears, you know. 

Mar. I did not know that John had contracted for any 
in these walls. 

Mrs. R. Then some belated guests might at this very 
moment be in the china closet. 

Mar. A belated mouse, probably. 

Mrs. R. {mysteriously). Marion, we shouldn't judge 
people too harshly. Poor Dr. Thwaite may have his rea- 
sons — 

Mar. Reasons ! 

Mrs. R. Still I think, dear, from what I have observed 
of his character, that you had better put him out of your 
thoughts altogether. 

Mar. As if I had ever wasted one thought upon him. 

Mrs. R. No, of course not ! Besides, he leaves to-mor- 
row for the Sandwich Islands. 

Mar. Sandwich Islands ! 

Mrs. R. So we shall not be troubled any more by his 
bad manners. 



A RICE PUDDING. 23 

Mar. Who told you he was to leave for the Sandwich 
Islands ? 

Mus. R. {mysteriously). Marion — I am older than you 
— in experience, I mean — if not in years. I am a married 
woman, and that counts for a great deal. Dr. Thwaite may 
be very charming and all that, but I feel it my duty to tell 
you that he is what you might call fickle and decidedly im- 
moral. 

Mar. This afternoon you could not say enough in his 
praise. 

Mrs. R. I own I had other views for him, but I find his 
affections are otherwise and hopelessly engaged. 

Mar. How do you know ? 

Mrs. R. Don't ask me, Marion. 

Mar. You must tell me. 

Mrs. R. And if he seems at times a little distrait and 
unmannerly, we must drop a tear for one who has lived to 
see his love another's bride ! 

Mar. Another's bride ! 

Mrs. R. The Sandwich Islands were my suggestion. 
Otherwise — John — the duel — the pantry window — the — 

Mar. You don't mean to tell me it's you lie — 

Mrs. R. Oh, Marion ! there's nothing like you for find- 
ing out things ! 

Mar. So k's all come true ! 

Mrs. R. Yes — just as you predicted. Only, if you knew 
how it would turn out, why did yo 1 persuade me into 
wearing this gown of grandmother's ! 

Mar. /persuade you ! 

Mrs. R. But I don't give up hope yet, and, after all, I 
think the idea of the Sandwich Islands was quite an inspira- 
tion, because, you know, one of your plans was to go on a 
mission to teach the heathen Mrs. Lincoln's receipts for 
brown bread and fish-balls. 

Mar. The Sandwich Islanders are not heathens, Ellen ; 
they were Christianized in the year — 

Mrs. R. Why, they must be, Marion, if they don't know 
how to make fish-balls, and on an island, too, where they are 
just surrounded by fish. I should think it would be a deed 
of charity for some one to go and teach them the best use of 
their opportunities. And if you should go, you would, of 
course, meet Dr. Thwaite — a small group of islands, you 
know — why, you would probably run across him the first 



24 A RICE PUDDING. 

time you went out for a walk, and he would be so aston- 
ished, and would say — 

Mar. Nothing at all. 1 would not give him a chance to 
speak. I would sweep by him icily like this. 

Mrs. K. Oh, Marion! But if he felt awfully hurt, and 
the next day sent you round a superb basket of— of well, 
some tropical flowers — what would you do then ? 

Mar. Send them back without a word. 

Mrs. R. How unkind! But if — if — oh, you go on, 
Marion ! Where would you meet again, do you suppose ? 

Mar. Our next meeting would perhaps be at the royal 
court. 

Mrs. R. Olv yes! Go on! 

Mar. Where Dr. Thwaite had been called in to attend 
his majesty — 

Mrs. R. Of course! Goon! 

Mar. I to teach the queen — 

Mrs. R. (clapping her hands). Mrs. Lincoln's receipts 
for fish-balls ! Dc go on ! 

Mar. I should be discovered negligently leaning against 
a towering palm, attired in a modified costume of the Sand- 
wich Islands. 

Mrs. R. (doubtfidly). I've heard they wore Mother 
Hubbards. Do you think you would look well in a Mother 
Hubbard? 

Mar. Dr. Thwaite, reduced to a state of despair at my 
coldness, comes humbly forward, hat in hand, " Miss Rich- 
ards," he says, ''am I wrong in surmising that in some 
unexplained manner I have incurred the unmitigated misfor- 
tune of having offended the gentlest of her sex ? " 

Mrs. R. {admiringly). I never heard Dr. Thwaite talk 
like that, but then in the Sandwich Islands there's no know- 
ing what one mightn't do. 

Mar. 1 straighten myself up — like this — move off 
haughtily a few steps — turn my head — so — reach out my 
right hand to open the door of the Queen's private apart- 
ments, remarking, " Your conduct, Dr. Thwaite. admits of 
no " — {Throws open china-closet door. Thwaite discov- 
ered seated on cake-box. Tableau.) 

Mrs. R. Of all unfortunate — 

Mar. (recovcri)ig herself, and slamming door). So 
that is your belated guest! Good-night ! I'm going to bed. 
{Exit.) 



A RICE PUDDING. 25 

Mrs. R. Oh, Marion — forgive me ! You don't hate me, 
Marion ? She's gone ! 

Thwaite (peeping through crack). Coast clear ? 

Mrs. R. No — no! Go back! I hear some one else! 
(Thwaite closes door.) Poor Marion ! Now she will cry 
herself to sleep. All the fault of grandmother's gown ! 
(Enter Richards.) 

Rich. So this is the way you evade my injunctions ! 

Mrs. R. Evade ? I obeyed them to the letter. Sha'n't 
we go into the library ? 

Rich. And you call that your grandmother's gown ? 

Mrs. R. It is really, John. (Shivering.) This room is 
so cold. 

Rich. And that is the way your grandmother dressed her 
hair ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, yes. I copied it from an old portrait. 
( Yawns.) I'm so sleepy. 

Rich. And did I tell you to put on those ridiculous high- 
heeled slippers ? 

Mrs. R. I thought they would make me look taller. 
Dear me ! It's past twelve ! 

Rich. How about that patch of black court-plaster on 
your cheek ? 

Mrs. R. Why, John, I put that on to cover up my dim- 
ple ! 

Rich. The wiles of women! 

Mrs. R. It's striking the quarter. 

Rich. Do you know, madam, that owing to this ridicu- 
lous attire, you were taken for my daughter ten consecutive 
times ? 

Mrs. R. I'm awfully sorry. I am really, John. I'll 
never do it again. I'm just as unhappy about it as you are 
— more so — I've made such a muddle of everything, and I 
want you to promise that whatever happens you'll do noth- 
ing rash. 

Rich. Rash! When was I ever rash, except in trying 
Marion's puddings. (Enter Ellen, with tray of glasses.) 

Mrs. R. Oil, Nelly, you needn't go in there. I'll put 
those away — I'll — (Ellen, opening china-closet door, 
and starting back, drops tray.) Murder ! Fire ! Bug- 
glers ! (Exit hastily.) 

(Enter Thwaite from china closet, holding saucer and 
spoon?) 



26 A RICE PUDDING. 

Thwaite {eating deliberately). A most extraordinary 
pudding ! 

Mrs. R. I shall faint ! 

Rich, (amazed). Well, sir. 

Thwaite. Having been promised some rice pudding if 
I came to the reception, and seeing none on the table, and 
being something of a dyspeptic — salads, ices, and coffee at 
night every physician condemns — I was just looking about 
in the closet, and came across this most remarkable pud- 
ding. 

Mrs. R. (aside). How cleverly he got out of it ! He's 
almost as original as Marion. What a pair they would have 
made ! 

Rich. Oh, if rice pudding is what you are after, you may 
have all you find. We have lived on rice pudding for the 
past four days. 

Mrs. R. That's one of Marion's own original receipts. 

Thwaite {trying to hide a wry face). So I judged. I 
never tasted anything in the least like it. 

Mrs. R. She would be so pleased to hear you say so. 
Her chief aim in cooking is to do original work. 

Thwaite. She certainly succeeds. 

Mrs. R. Sometimes I think I should like to try and be 
original, too. 

Rich. Oh. one original in the family is quite enough. 

Mrs. R. It's so pleasant to see you enjoy it ! Her 
efforts (glancing reproachfully at Richards) are not always 
so appreciated. 

Thwaite (aside). So the old brute doesn't even appre- 
ciate what a jewel he has for a wife. I'll stand up for her. 
(Aloud.) Sir. a pudding of this kind is an epoch in one's 
gastronomic history. 

Rich. Yes. I think you'll find it quite an epoch in your 
gastronomic history at two o'clock to-morrow morning. 

Mrs. R. (aside). He had the nightmare last night, and 
attributes it to that pudding. 

Thwaite. What! A simple little rice pudding ! 

Mrs. R. Yes ; a simple little rice pudding. However, it 
isn't quite as simple as it might be. There are a number of 
— rather unusual ingredients in it. Did you taste the honey ? 

Thwaite. Honey ? It did strike me as being quite 
sweet — but that did not surprise me, considering who 
made it. 



A RICE PUDDING. 2^ 

Mrs. R. (aside). Why, he still seems to have a lingering 
fondness for Marion after all. Probably from her being my 
sister-in-law. (Aloud.') I think, though, the honey is a 
little overpowered by the flavoring. We have different 
tastes, and, to please all round, Marion put in a tablespoon- 
ful each of vanilla, lemon, orange, almond, and rose water. 

Thwaite. So you can take your choice. 

Mrs. R. Exactly. Then there is some filling that was 
left over from the mince pies. 

Thwaite. I think I did run across the filling. 

Mrs. R. And some citron and suet left over from the 
plum pudding. Marion would be worth a fortune to a poor 
man — she never wastes a scrap. 

Thwaite (pensively). She would indeed ! I think I 
recall striking some citron. 

Mrs. R. And then — 

Thwaite (pointing to pudding). What would you call 
that, now? 

Mrs. R. That ? Let me see. 

Thwaite. It looks like an olive. 

Mrs. R. You are right. Now, who but Marion would 
have dreamed of putting olives into a rice pudding ? 

Rich. Who, indeed ! 

Thwaite (aside). His tone is positively insulting. 

Mrs. R. She's quite fond of combining honey and olives. 
She says it's so classical. She says the Greeks and Romans 
were devoted to olives and honey. 

Rich. More fools they ! 

Mrs. R. Not that she calls this a severely classical pro- 
duction. She says this pudding is conceived more in the 
spirit of the Renaissance. 

Thwaite. It does seem to lack the Archaic simplicity of 
the ordinary rice pudding. 

Mrs. R. (aside). How appreciative he is ! Now, when 
Marion told John about its being conceived in the spirit of 
the Renaissance. John only sniffed, and said that many more 
such Renaissances would be the death of him ! And to think 
that but for me Dr. Thwaite might at this moment be engaged 
to Marion with a fair prospect of having just such a pudding 
for dinner every day of his life ! 

Thwaite. And how about the steak that was left over 
from lunch that first day ? 

Mrs. R. Oh, we had that as hash. Marion is especially 
happy in her hashes. 



28 A RICE PUDDING. 

Rich. A happiness which I for one have no desire to 
share. 

Mks. R. (aside to Thwaite). So clever of you to have 
got out of the difficulty as you did. So much easier, you 
know, and pleasanter, eating that pudding than fighting a 
duel. 

Thwaite (dubiously). Y-es. But I fear I am keeping 
you up. May I trouble you, Mr. Richards, to give my adieux 
to your wife ? 

Mrs. R. (aside). What is he talking about? 

Rich. Do you object to doing so in person ? 

Thwaite. By no means. Where is Mrs. Richards ? 

Rich. Where, sir? Why, there, sir — two feet from 
your nose. 

Thwaite. There! (Aside.) My first suspicions were cor- 
rect, after all! He is a Mormon! (Aloud.) Then that 
lady is your wife, too ? 

Rich. Two? One, sir — number one. I never had 
another. 

Thwaite (agitated). Did I not distinctly understand 
you, sir, the other day, to state that the lady with the beau- 
tiful complexion and lovely hair and exquisite smile was your 
wife ? 

Rich. And I should like to know, sir, if that lady there 
has not a beautiful complexion, and lovely hair, and an exqui- 
site smile ? 

Thwaite (confused). Why, now I come to observe — 
her — certainly — without doubt. 

Mrs. R. (aside). Now that he comes to observe me ! 
Well, I'll have to forgive him for Marion's sake. 

Thwaite. And the lady who made the rice pudding ? 

Rich. Is, I blush to say, my sister. Miss Richards. 

Thwaite (aside). No Sandwich Islands for me ! 

Mrs. R. (aside). What a goose I've been ! .(Aloud.) If 
you'd like to say good night to Miss Richards yourself, I 
think you'll find her on the front stairs. (Aside.) I hear 
her sobbing there this minute. 

Thwaite. Thanks. (Exit.) 

Mrs. R. To think, John ! He had not even observed I 
was not bad looking ! 

Rich. Just like his impudence. 

Mrs. R. But we must forgive him for Marion's sake. 

Rich. Oh, yes, I will forgive him. 



A RICE PUDDING. 29 

Mrs. R. And how convenient it will be to have a physi- 
cian in the family. So cheap, you know. And we can 
almost talk to each other from our windows. The little 
fence must come down, however, and we must have a gravel 
path — all just as I planned. And oh, John, you can't think 
how thankful I am that it's turned out as it has, and I'll 
never do it again, and if you'll forgive me this time, I'll try 
and grow older just as fast as I can, and — 

{Enter Ellen in extraordinary bonnet, .) 

Ellen. I've come to guv warnin' ! 

Rich. That bonnet is certainly a warning. 

Mrs. R. Not at this hour, surely ! 

Ellen. An' shure it's becase it is this hour that me 
an' the other girls have been a-talkin' it over, an' we've come 
to the conclusion that a house where you can't go into the 
chany closet of an avnin' widout matin' a bugglar a-sittin' on 
a cake box atin' cold rice puddin' ain't no place for a dacent 
gurl. 

Rich. You idiot! it wasn't a burglar — 

Mrs. R. {aside). Sh ! John, don't say a word. I've 
been dying to get rid of the whole lot ever since they came, 
but I haven't dared. A housekeeper needs a great deal of 
nerve. 

Rich. So does a housekeeper's servant. 

Mrs. R. Besides, it's true Dr. Thwaite is a sort of bur- 
glar, for he stole our Marion. {Aloud.) Very well, Nelly, 
I'll pay you all, and you may go. {Goes to desk.) 

Rich. But who the Dickens will get the breakfast? 
{Enter Marion and Thwaite.) 

Thwaite. Allow me to present to you your next-door 
neighbor. 

Mrs. R. Oh, Marion ! {Congratulations.) 

Rich, {drawing Thwaite apart). Sound constitution ? 

Thwaite. Perfectly. 

Rich. Strong digestion ? 

Thwaite. I could digest nails. 

Rich. Unfortunately, I cannot. 

Thwaite. I'm very sorry to hear it. 

Rich. It's very unfortunate. Nothing like dyspepsia for 
making a man irritable ; plays the devil with one's temper ; 
and yet she's a good girl — a very sweet girl. I am very 
fond of Marion. 

Thwaite. Who could help being ? 



30 A RICE PUDDING. 

Rich. And if you are perfectly sure your digestion is all 
right — 

Thwaite. Oh, perfectly. 

Rich, {enthusiastically). Then you are just the husband 
for Marion, and I feel convinced that my own health and 
happiness will be materially increased by the match. 

Ellen. You've paid up honest, and I'll tell 'em at the 
Intilligence office you was inexparienced but well manin'. 

Rich. But we haven't settled yet who is to get break- 
fast— 

Mar. Oh, I'll get breakfast. 

Mrs. R. and Thwaite. Of course — Marion will get 
breakfast. (Richards looks greatly disturbed.) 

Curtain. 



LIST OF PLAYS. 

ARRANGED BY NUMBER OF CHARACTERS, MALE AND FEMALE. 

FURTHER PARTICULARS IN REGULAR LIST. 

PRICE GIVEN AFTER EACH PLAY. 

Where a play is known under two titles, both are given as separate ptayt, in 

this list only. 



Two Characters. — One Male, one Female. 
An Original Idea . . 15 



Which Shall I Marry? 



Three Characters. — Two Males, One Female 

Box and Cox .... 15 I Mary Moo 15 | Silent Woman 

Unprotected Female . 15 | 

One Male, Two Females. 

Apples 15 | Two Flats and a Sharp 15 | Which will Have Him? 15 

Four Characters. — Two Males, Two Females. 



Bouquet 15 

Gi ve a Dog, etc. . . 15 

Match Makers ... 15 

Personal Matter . . 25 



Census Taker . . . 

Mr. Joffin's Latchkey 

None so Deaf as those 

who Won't Hear 



15 



Fairy's Father ... 15 
Madam is Abed ... 15 

Putkins 15 

Zerubabel'sSecondWife 15 



Bombastes Furioso 



Three Males, One Female. 
15 | The Tempter. ... 15 | Sailor's Return 



Five Characters. — Three Males, Two Females. 



Anonymous Kiss . 
Cousin Tom . . . 
Done on Both Sides 
Sylvia's Soldier . . 
Ugly Customer . . 
Blue and Cherry . 



Kiss in the Dark . 



Only a Clod . . 



15 Doubtful Victory .15 

15 My Son Diana . . 15 

15 Two Buzzards ... 15 

15 Appearances are De- 

15 ceitful 15 

15 Don't Judge by Ap- 
pearances .... 15 

Two Males, Three Females. 



Under a Veil .... 15 
Nature aTid Philosophy 15 
To Oblige Benson . . 15 
Welsh Girl .... 15 
The Youth who Never 
Saw a Woman . . 15 



15 



15 



My Husband's Secret 
Phantom Breakfast . 



15 I Poor Pillicoddy . 
15 



Four Males, One Female. 
1 Two Heads are Better | Trumpeter's Daughter 15 



than One 



15 



Six Characters. — One Male, Five 

The Only Young Man in Town 

Three Males, Three Females 



Aunt Charlotte's Maid 15 



Always Intended 



15 



Dandelion's Dodges . 15 
Drop Too Much . . 15 
From Information I Re- 
ceived 15 

I've Written to Brown 15 



My Sister's Husband . 15 
Never Say Die ... 15 
Your Life's in Danger 15 
Four Males, Two Females. 
John Wopps .... 15 
Nursey Chickweed . 15 
Needless Stratagem (A) 15 
Once on a Time ... 15 
Slice of Luck (A) •. . 15 
Sullivan, The Slugger 15 
Five Males, One Female. 



Females. 
30 



Sarah's Young Man 
Two Puddifoots 



Sunshine through the 
Clouds 15 

Soldier, Sailor, Tinker, 
and Tailor .... 15 

We're All Teetotallers 15 



Advice to Husbands . 15 | 

Two Males, Four Females, 
Eliza Carisbrooke, etc. 15 I How the Colonel Pro- 

| posed 15 

25. new. 



Diamond Cut Diamond 15 
Jane's Legacy ... II 



Seven Characters. -Four Males, Three Females. 



Boston Dip .... 15 

Bowled Out .... 15 

Bit of Brummagem . 15 

Brother Bill and Me . 15 

Class Day 25 



Peace and Quiet . . IS 
Smashington Goit . . 15 
Silver8ton's Wager . 15 
Thirty Minutes for Re- 
freshments. ... 15 



Comrades 25 

Don's Stratagem . . 15 
My Turn Next ... 15 
Mysterious Disappear- 
ance 15 

Poison 25 

Three Males, Four Females. 
Cool Collegians (The) ... 25 | Pretty Piece of Property , 
Six Males, One Female. 
Family Failing ... 15 | Look After Brown . 15 | Turkish Bath 
Five Males, Two Females. 



I.- 



Dora 15 

Free Ward (The) . . 15 



Jobn Dobbs .... 15 

Old Honesty .... 15 

J Poor Peter .... 15 

Eight Characters. — Four Males, Four Females. 

Crinoline 15 j Christmas Box ... 15 I My Precious Betsy 

I Our. Mutual Friend . 25 | 
Six Males, Two Females. 
Blanks and Prizes 15 I Fighting by Proxy . 15 

Daughter of Regiment 15 | Love's Labor Saved . 15 

Five Males, Three Females. 

Bread on the Waters . 15 j Husband to Order . . 15 | Little More Cider 

John Smith .... 15 

Last Loaf (The) ... 15 

Little Brown Jug (The) 15 

Seven Males, One Female. 

Payable on Demand . 15 | Sea of Troubles . . . 15 

Nine Characters. —Six Males, Three Females. 



Flower of the Family 
His Last Legs . . . 



Slasher and Crasher 
Seeing the Elephant 



True Unto Death 
Uncle Robert 



My Brother's Keeper . 
Nicholas Flam . . 



15 



15 



■Midnight Banquet , 
On and Off . . , 



Another Glass ... 15 Dunducketty's Picnic 15 
Down by the Sea . . 15 Hit Him. He has no 

Friends 15 

Five Male, Four -Females. 
Better than Gold . . 25 | Queen's Heart (The) . 15 | Race for a Widow . . 
Two Males, Seven Females. 
Thorn among the Roses 15 
Ten Characters. — Six Males, Four Females. 
Among the Breakers . 15 I Damon and Pythias . 15 I Lying will Out . . . 
Bull in a China Shop. 15 Game of Dominos . . 15 Mrs. Walthrop's Bach- 

15 Lost in London ... 15 elors 25 



15 



15 



Duchess of Dublin 



Seven Males. Three Females. 



Miller and his Men . 15 
Paddle your Own Canoe 15 
Shaker Lovers ... 15 



Coupon Bonds . . . 25 I Flowing Bowl (The) . 25 
Enlisted for War . . 15 Home Guard (The) . 15 
Ella Rosenberg . . . 15 | 

Five Males, Five Females. 
Both Alike .... 15 I Cleft Stick (The) . . 15 I Lords of Creation 
| Old and Young ... 15 | 
Eleven Characters. — Six Males, Five Females. 

Babie 25 I The Miller's Wife . . 15 | The " Tomboy " 

Giralda 15 | Our Folks 15 | 

Eight Males, Three Females. 
Lost Mine (The) . . 25 ("Nevada" .... 25 I Our Boys of 1776 
I One Hundred Years Ago 15 | 
Seven Males, Four Females. Five Males, Six Females 

Abore the Clouds 15 | The Christening . . . . . . 

Nine Males, Two Females. 

Don Caesar de Bazan . 15 

26, new. 



Twelve Characters. — Nine Males, Three Females. 

Ticket of Leave Man 15 | Wife's Secret (The) . . . . , 

Ten Males, Two Females. Eight Males, Four Females. 

Gaspardo, the Gondolier .... 15 | Fool's Revenge (The) 15 

Over Twelve Characters. 

Jeweller's Apprentice 15 ! Scarlet Letter ... 15 

Ladyofl^ons . . . 15 ' School for Scandal . 15 

Lady of the Lake . . 15 

Monseigneur . ... 15 

Maid of Milan . . . 16 

Masaniello .... 15 

Naaman, the Syrian . 25 

Octoroon (The)" ... 25 

Poor Gentleman . . 15 

Past Redemption . . 25 

The Stranger .... 15 

Male Characters Only. 

Number of Characters given instead of price, which is uniformly 15 cents each. 



Aladdin 15 

Babes in the Woods . 15 

Captain Kyd .... 15 

Clari 15 

Dumb Girl of Portici . 15 

East Lynne .... 15 

Forced to the War . 25 

Hero of Scotland . . 15 

Hunchback (The) . . 15 

Hamlet 15 

Hidden Hand ... 15 



15 



StokmWill (The) . . 25 

Golden Buttertiv (The) 25 

Two Orphans (The) . 25 

Virginia Veteran . , 25 

Wallace 15 

Zelina 15 

Blue and G ray, or Star 

of Empire .... 30 



Coals of Fire .... 6 

Close Shave .... 6 

Freedom of the Press. 8 

Gentlemen of the Jury 12 

Great Umbrella Case 32 

Great Elixir .... 9 

Humors of the Strike 8 

Hypochondriac (The) 5 



Man with the Demijohn 4 
My Uncle the Captain 6 
New Brooms Sweep 

Clean 6 

Public Benefactor . . fi 
Pedlar of Verynice . 7 
Rival Poets .... 2 

Runaways 4 

Ready-made Suit ..- . 35 
Female Characters Only 



Stand bv the Flag . . 5 
Shall Our Mothers Vote 11 
Two Gentlemen in a Fix 2 
Too Late for the Train 2 
Thief of Time (The) . C 
Tender Attachment . 'i 
Very Pleasant Evening 3 
Wanted, a Male Cook 4 



15 cents each, except Rebecca's Triumph, which is 25 cents. 



Aunt Mehitable's Sci- 
entific Experiment . 
Champion of Her Sex 
Dog tLat will Fetch, &c 
Eliza's Bonafide Offer 



Accelerate — operatic 

charade 15 

Bachelor's Christmas 25 

Bunch of Buttercups 15 

Christmas Carol . . 15 

Centennial — charade . 15 
Conjuration — operatic 

charade 15 



Lightheart's Pilgrim- 



Annstasia, operetta 25 

Anonymous, shadow pantomime . . 25 
Arabella anil Lionel, pantomime . 15 
A. Ward's Wax Figger Show ... 25 
Bon Bons, "musical and dramatic 

entertainment 25 

Capuletta, operatic burlesque 
Cinderella, shadow pantomime 
Drink, shadow pantomime . . 



Red Chignon . . . 
Rebecca's Triumph 
Tipsy Pudding . . 
Using the Weed 
Voyage of Life . . 



Santa Claus First 
Santa Clans at Home . 
Seven Ages — Tableaux 
ent. ... . . 

Titania ... . . 



Greatest Plague in Life 8 
The Grecian Bend. . 7 
Love of a Bonnet . . 6 
No Cure, No Pay . . 7 
Precious Pickle ... 7 
Musical and Other Plays for Children. 
Male and Female Characters. 

College Ned— operetta 15 Merry Christmas 
Dorothy's Birthday— R. E. Porter 

operetta. .... 25 Santa Claus Frolics 
Diamonds and Toads — 

operetta 15 

Fairy of Fountain . . 25 

Holidays 15 

Hunt the Thimble . 50 

Lost Children ... 15 

Musical Allegories for Female Characters Only. 

Revolt of the Bees . . 15 I Vision of Freedom . 15 
15 Tournament of Idyl- War of Roses ... 15 

court 15 I 

The Pilgrim's Choice, for Male and Females. 
Musical and Other Entertainments for Aeults. 

Driggs and His Double, shadow pan- 
tomime 25 

H. M. S. Pinafore, opera .... 
In Pawn, shadow pantomime . . . 

Jenny I.ind, operetta 

Sculptor's Triumph, tableau ent. . 
15 j Snow Bound, musical and dramatic 

25 I entertainment 

25 Orpheus, shadow pantomime . . 
27, neio. 



IS 



MEYER'S CELEBRATED GREASE PAINTS. 

We are now prepared to furnish a full line of Grease Paints of the celebrated maks 
of Charles Meyer, at the manufacturer's price. These paints are acknowledged by 
professionals to be the best, and are in general use in our theatres. Compared to the 
old method of using powders, these paints are far superior, as they impart a clearer 
and more life-like appearance to the skin, and, being' of a greasy nature, cannot easily 
be affected by perspiration. We can supply the following necessary colors, put up 
in a neat box, with full directions for use, viz. : Light Flesh, Dark Flesh, Brown, 
Black, Lake, White, Carmine, and Slate. Price, $1.00. 

We have also the following extra colors : — 
NO. NO. NO. 

1. Very pale Flesh Color. 6. Healthy Sunburned, for 11. Ruddy, for old age. 

2. Light Flesh, deeper tint. juvenile heroes. 12. Olive, healthy. 

3. Natural Flesh Color, for 7. Healthy Sunb'ned, deep- 13. Olive, lighter shade. 

juvenile heroes. er shade. 14. Gvpsy flesh color. 

4. Rosy Tint, for juvenile 8. Sallow, for young men. 15. Othello. 

heroes. 9. Healthy Color, for mid- 16. Chinese. 

5. Deeper shade, for juve- die ages. 17. Indian. 

nile heroes. 10. Sallow, for old age. iS. East Indian. 

Done up in sticks of four inches in length, at 25 cents each. Any other color 
made to order. 

LINING COLORS: Brown, Black, Lake, and White, is cents each. Carmine 
and White, large sticks, 25 cents each. 



MEYER'S WELL-KNOWN FACE PREPARATIONS. 

Justly recommended by the profession as being the best. 

CREAM EXORA. — In large china pots. A very fine preparation for beauti- 
fying the complexion, in different shades, as follows: No. 1, White; No 3, Tint 
of Rose ; No. 3, Darker Shade (brunette) . 50 and 75 cents per oox. 

ADHESIVE POWDER. —For sticking on Mustaches, Whiskers, etc. 
Price, 25 cents per box. 

COCOA BUTTER. — For removing grease paint. Large pieces, 25 cents. 



DORIN'S { gffi £ ggfS?/ } «* 35 cents each. 

BAKER'S SMOKE POTS. — Having considerable call for an article for 
making smoke for fire scenes, etc., we have made arrangements with the pyro- 
technist of the Boston Theatre to supply us with the best article for that purpose; 
we can now furnish smoke pots, entirely free from stench and producing a thick 
white smoke, in two sizes, at 35 and 50 cents each. 

BAKER'S BLACK OPERA CORK-— For Ethiopian Singers and Actors. 
40 cents per box. 

BAKER'S TABLEAU LIGHTS. -Red, Green, and White. Price, 35 
cents each. 

These lights are put up especially for our trade, and cannot be excelled for 
brilliancy. They burn with as little smoke as any preparation for like purpose. 
The white is especiallv brilliant, rivalling the magnesium light in intensity. We 
have the above solidified for mailing purposes, enough for three lights in a pack- 
age, at the same price. 

The Tableau Lights will be sold in bulk, put up in tin boxes, not less than 
half a pound ot a color, at $1.50 per pound ; sent only by express. 



We can furnish any of the articles advertised in the catalogues of other publishers 
of plays, at list prices. 



THE STOLEN WILL. 

A COMEDY-DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 
Price, 25 cents. 



West Swaxzet, July 27, 1881. 
Lex. E. Tilden: — Bear Sir, — Have read your play entitled "Thh 
Stolen Will." Was very much pleased with it. Think the character 
of Chip Winkle, Esq., is immense. Should like to play it myself when I 
get through with Joshua. Hope the plav will be a, success wherever pro- 
duced. It deserves to be. Yours truly, DESMAN THOMPSON. 



m*~ GET THE BEST, ^m 

OUR MAKE-UP BOOK. 

A complete guide on the art of making up the face for the stage, 
including directions for the use of wigs, beards, moustaches, and every 
variety of artificial hair, etc., for the use of amateurs and actors, with 
"Hints on Acting." Price, 35 cents. 



. . . 6 M. 


4 p. 


. . . 5 m. 


If. 


. . . 4 m. 


4f, 


. . . 7 m. 


3f. 


. . . 6 m. 


If. 


. . . 6 m. 


2f 



Select the pieces for your next performance from the following 
selected list of 

POPULAR PLAYS. 

A GAME OF DOMINOS.— Comedy. One act . 
ADVICE TO HUSBANDS. —Comedietta. One act 

CRINOLINE. — Farce. One act 

ELLA ROSENBERG. — Drama. Two acts . . . 
A FAMILY FAILING.— Farce. One act . . . 
FIGHTING BY PROXY. — Farce. One act . . . 
THE MILLER'S WIFE (GIRALDA). — Comic Drama. 

Three acts 6 m. 5 F. 

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. — Drama. Two acts . .13 m. 3 F. 
THE MIDNIGHT BANQUET. — Drama. Two acts . . 6 m. 3 f. 

MY SON DIANA. — Farce. One act 3 M. 2 F. 

THE YOUTH WHO NEVER SAW A WOMAN.— 

Farce. One act 3 m. 2 F. 

BOTH ALIKE. — Comedy. Two acts 5 M. 5 F. 

THE SHAKER LOVERS. — Drama. One act 7 M. 3 F. 

THE MAID OF MILAN. — Drama. Three acts . . . . 9 m. 6 f. 
JEN2FY LIND. — Farce. One act 12 m. 1 e 

Price-, 15 cents each. 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY 

A Drama in Prologue and Four Acts. By Frank Carlos. Sixteen male, four female 
characters. Price, 25 cents. 

YOUNG MR. PRITCHARD. 

A Comeay in Two Acts. By Esther I!. Tiffany. One male, three female characters. 
Price, 1 5 cei.ts. 

THAT PATRICK! 

A Comedy in One Act. By Esther B. Tiffany. One male, two female characters 
Vri<;e, 15 cents. 

SULLIVAN, THE SLUGGER. 

A Farce in One Act. Four male, two female characters. Price, rs cents. 



A NEW GRAND ARMY DRAMA. 

FORCED TO THE WAR. 

A Drama in Four Acts. By David Hill. Ten male, three female characters. 
Price, 25 cents. 



IN PREPARATION. 

A NEW DRAMA. A NEW FARCE. 

By the popular author, GEO. M. BAKER. Will be ready about November 15. 



THE BOOK OF ELOQUENCE. A Collection of Extracts in Prose and 
Verse from the most famous orators and poets. Intended as exercises for 
declamations in colleges and schools. By Charles Didlev Warner. Price, 
#1.50. 

PARLOR VARIETIES. Part Third. A series of Home Plays by Olivia L 
Wilson. Comprising " Mother Michel and her Cat," " The Old Woman who 
Lived in a Shoe," from Harper's Young People, and other popular short plays. 
Uniform with Parts One and Two. Boards, 50 cents ; paper, 30 cents. 

THE READING CLUB AND HANDY SPEAKER. Edited by 
George M. Baker. No. 17. Paper, 15 cents. 



CHRISTMAS PLAYS. 

SANTA CLAUS THE FIRST. One Act. Nine characters. 25 cents. 
SANTA CLAUS' FROLICS. One Act. Any number. 15 cents. 
SANTA CLAUS AT HOME. One Act. Any number. 20 cents. 
THE MERRY CHRISTMAS OF THE OLD WOMAN WHO 
LIVED IN HER SHOE. One Act. Any number. 15 cents. 

THE BACHELOR^ CHRISTMAS. One Act. Three male, two female 

and children. Price, 25 cents. 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL. One Scene. Characters numerous. 15 cents. 



GEORGE M. BAKER'S PLAYS. 

Price 15 cents, unless otherwise stated. 



ABOVE THE CLOUDS. Drama in two 

acts. 7 males, 4 females. 
AMONG THE BREAKERS. Drama in 

two acts. 6 males, 4 females. 
BETTER THAN GOLD. Drama La four 

acts. 5 males, 4 females. _ 25 C6HtS. 

BON-BONS. Musical entertainment. 3 males, 

1 female. 25 cents. 

BOSTON DIP, THE. Comedietta in one 

act. 4 males, 3 females. 
BREAD ON THE WATERS. Drama in 

two acts. 5 males, 3 females. 
CAPULETTA. Burlesque in two parts. 3 

males, 1 female. 
CHAMPION OF HER SEX, THE. Farce 

in one act. 8 females. 
CHRISTMAS CAROL, A. Christmas en- 
tertainment from Dickens. Many char. 
CLOSE SHAVE, A. Farce in one act. 6 

males. 
COALS OF FIRE. Farce in one act. 6 

males. 
COMRADES. Drama in three acts. 4 males, 

3 females. 25 CeiltS. 
DOWN BV THE SEA. Drama in two 

acts. 6 males, 3 females. 
BROP TOO MUCH, A. Farce in one act. 

4 males, 2 females. 

DUCHESS OF DUBLIN, THE. Farce in 

one act. 6 males, 4 females. 
ENLISTED FOR THE WAR. Drama in 

three acts. 7 males, 3 females. 

FAIRY OF THE FOUNTAIN, THE. 

Play for children in two acts. 10 char. 25c. 
FLOWER OF THE FAMILY, THE. 

Comedy-drama in three acts. 5 males. 3 fern. 
FLOWING BOWL, THE. Drama m three 

acts. 7 males, 3 females. 25 Cents. 

FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. Farce in 

one act. 8 males. 
GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY. Farce 

in one act. 12 males. 

GREAT ELIXIR, THE. Farce in one act. 

9 males. 

GREATEST PLAGUE IN LIFE, THE. 

Farce in one act. 8 females. 
GRECIAN BEND, THE. Farce in one 

act. 7 females. 

HUMORS OF THE STRIKE, THE. 

Farce in one act. 8 males. 
HYPOCHONDRIAC, THE. Farce in one 

act. , 5 males. 
LAST LOAF, THE. Drama in two acts. 

5 males, 3 females. 
LIGHTHEART'S PILGRIMAGE. Alle- 
gory for schools. 8 females and chorus. 

LITTLE BROWN JUG, THE. Drama in 

three acts. 5 males, 3 females. 
LITTLE MORE CIDER, A. Farce in one 

act. 5 males, 3 females. 
LOVE OF A BONNET, A. Farce in one 

act. 5 females. 
MAN WITH THE DEMIJOHN, THE. 

Farce in one act. 4 males. 
MY BROTHER'S KEEPER. Drama in 

three acts. 5 males, 3 females. 

MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE, A. 

Farce in one act. 4 males. 
MY UNCLE THE CAPTAIN. Farce in 

one act. 6 males. 
NEVER SAY DIE. Farce in one act. 3 

males, 3 females. 
NEVADA. Drama in three acts. 8 males, 3 

females. 25 cents. 



NEW BROOM SWEEPS CLEAN, A. 

Farce in one act. 6 males. 
NO CURE, NO PAY. Farce in one act. 7 

females. 
ONCE ON A TIME. Drama in two acts. 

4 males, 3 females. 

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. Drama 

in two acts. 8 males, 3 females. 
ORIGINAL IDEA, AN. Dialogue for a 

lady and gentleman. 
OUR FOLKS. Drama b three acts. 6 males, 

5 females. 

PADDLE YOUR OWN CANOE. Farce 

in one act. 7 males, 3 females. 
PAST REDEMPTION. Drama in four 

acts. 9 males, 4 females. 25 cents. 

PEDLAR OF VERYNICE, THE. Bur- 

lesque. 7 males. 
PRECIOUS PICKLE, A. Farce in one 

act. 6 females. 
PUBLIC BENEFACTOR, A. Farce in 

one act. 6 males. 
REBECCA'S TRIUMPH. Drama in three 

acts. 16 females. 25 cents. 

RED CHIGNON, THE. Farce in one act. 

6 fe males. 

REVOLT OF THE BEES, THE. Mu- 
sical allegory. 9 females. 

RUNAWAYS, THE. Farce in one act. 4 
males. 

SANTA CLAUS' FROLICS. Christmas- 
tree entertainment. Many char. 

SCULPTOR'S TRIUMPH, THE. Alle- 
gory. 1 male, 4 females. 

SEA OF TROUBLES, A. Farce in one 
act. 8 males. 

SEEING THE ELEPHANT. Temper- 

a nce farce. 5 males, 2 females. 
SEVEN AGES, THE. Tableau entertain- 
ment. 7 males, 4 females. 

SHALL OUR MOTHERS VOTE? Hu. 

morous debate for n boys. 

SNOW BOUND. Musical and dramatic en- 
tertainment. 3 males, 1 fomale. 25 cents. 

STAND BY THE FLAG. Drama in one 
act. 5 males. 

SILVIA'S SOLDIER. Drama in two acts. 
3 males, 2 females. 

TEMPTER, THE. Drama in one act. 3 
males, 1 female. 

TENDER ATTACHMENT, A. Farce is 

one act. 7 males. 
THIEF OF TIME, THE. Farce In one 

act. 6 males. 
THIRTY MINUTES FOR REFRESH- 

ments. Farce in one act. 4 males, 3 fern. 
THORN AMONG THE ROSES, A. Con*. 

edy in one act. 2 males, 8 females. 
TITANIA. Play for children in two acts. 
Many char. 25 cents. 

TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. Dialogue 

for 2 males, introducing songs and recitations. 

TOURNAMENT OF IDYL WENT, THE. 

Allegory for 13 females. 
VISIONS OF FREEDOM. Allegory for 

16 females. 
USING THE WEED. Farce in cae act, 

7 females. 

WANTED, A MALE COOK. Farce ia 

one act. 4 males. 
WAR OF THE ROSES. Allegory for 8 

females. 
WE'RE ALL TEETOTALERS. Farce in 

one scene. 4 males, 3 females. 



WALTER H. BAKER, & CO. (p. o. Box 2846) , Boston, Mass, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



THE UNIVERSAL 

PBICB, 15 CEZLSTTS 




015 873 152 6 < 



ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy In 1 

Act. My Horace Wigan. 3 male, 8 fomale char. 

•IHE ANONYMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 

2 mala, 2 female char. 

ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. 

Bv Thomas M«rton. 6 male, 8 fomale cliar. 

AUlrr CHARLOTTE'S MAID. A Farce 

in 1 Art. fy J. M. Mortem. 8 mull, 3 female char. 

THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Comedy 

in 3 Acts, by lorn Taylor. 1U male, 3 female char. 

BLANKS AND PRIZES. A Comedietta 

in 1 Act. By Dexter KmiiU. o male, 2 female char. 

BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 

Art. 8 male, 2 female char. 

BOUQUET. A Comedietta in 1 Act. By 

J. A. Woodward. 2 main, 2 female char. 

BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

H. T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char. 

BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 

1 Ant. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char. 

A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy 

iu 2 Acts. By Charles Matthows. 6male,4fcmale 
char. 

THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. 

Bv J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 8 female char. 

THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 

5 male, 3 female char. 

COUSIN TOM. A Comedietta in 1 Act. 

By Geo. Roberta. 8 raalo, 2 female char. 

DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 

malo,^tt female char. 

DANDELION'S DODGES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T.J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female ehar. 

THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 

A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball. 6 male, 

2 female char. 

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude 

in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 11) male, 1 female. 

DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 

A;t. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char. 

DON'T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A 

Faroe In 1 Act. Bv J. M.Morton. 3 male. 2 female. 

DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By 

Chaa. Beade. 5 male, 2 female char. 

A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 

1 Act. 3 male, 2 female ohar. 

DUNDUCKETTY'S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 

Aet. By T. J. Williams. male, 3 female char. 

EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts. 8 

male, 7 female char. 

GASPARDOTHS GONDOLIER. A Drama 

in 3 Acts. By George Alinar. ID male, 2 female. 

GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. 

By Robert Jones. 10 male, 7 female char. 

HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A 

Farce in 1 Act By B. Yates and N. II. Harrington. 

7 mi.lo, 3 female cliar. 

A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comio 

Drama Iu 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char. 

I'VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce 

inlAct. By T. J. Williams. 4male,3female char. 

JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

JOHN W0PP3. A Farce in 1 Act. By 
W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char. 

THE LOST CHILDREN. A Musical En- 

tertainment l:i 5 Acts. By Mrs. Lewis Jerrey. 8 
male, 5 female char., ant) choru*. 

LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By George A. Stuart, M.D. 6 male, 1 female char. 

LOST IN LONDON. A Drama iu 3 Acts. 

6 male, 4 fomale char. 



LYING WILL OUT. A Comedy in i A<rte. 

By H. Pi-lham Curtis. 6 male, 4 female .liar. 

MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudeville iu 1 i "St. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

MARY MOO; or, Which Shall I Man .5? 

A Farce in 1 Act. By W. K. Suter. 2 male, 1 

M0N3EIGNEUR. A Drama iu 3 Acts. I y 

Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char. 

MY PRE CIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 A it. 

By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char. 

MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. \-y 

I". J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char. 

NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Af J *. 

Bv J. fl. Buckstone. 6 male, 3 female char. 

NONE SO DEAF AS THOSE WHO WCK'f 

Hear. A Comedietta in 1 Act. By 11. 1". Curtis i. 
male, 2 female char. 

JURSE Y CHICK WEED. A Farce in 1 A :t. 

By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char. 
OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 
Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. 

Bv J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char. 

PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char. 

THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Faice 

in 1 Art. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char. 

PUTKINS; Heir to Castles in the Air. 

A Comic Drama In 1 Act. By W. R. Emerson. 2 

male, 2 female char. 

THE QUEEN'S HEART. A Comedy in 3 

Acts. 5 male, 4 female char. 

A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce ir. 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char 

SARAH'S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 

Act. By W. K. Suter. 3 male, 8 female char. 

THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 

AcU. 8 mule, 7 female char. 

SILVERSTONE'S WAGER. A Comodi- 

otta In 1 Act. By R. R. Andrews. 4male,3feni(le. 

A SLICE OF LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char. 

SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in 1 A ct. 

By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 female ehar. 

A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, 

and a Tailor. A larce in 1 Act. 4 wale, 2 frantic. 

SUNSHINE THEOUGH THE CLOUDS. 

A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence. 3 male, 

3 female rhar. 

TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 A rts 

By J. Sheridan Know lee. 6 male, 2 female cbei. 

THE TURKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 - ct 

By Montague Williams and F. C. Bumand. t if I 
1 female char. 

TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. £ male char. 

TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONF. A 

Farce in 1 Act. Bv I.euox Home. 4male, lreu le 

THE TWO PUDDIFOOTS. A Farce i. 

Act. Bv J. M. Morton. 8 male, S female chor. 

AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. 

Bv Thomas J. Williams. 8 male, 2 female char. 

UNCLE ROBERT. A Comedy in 3 Acta, 

By H. P. Curtis. 6 male, 2 female char. 

A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A Farce 

In 1 Aet. Bv W. F.. Suter. 8 male char. 

THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act 

Bv Mrs. Planche. 8 male, 3 femal. char. 

WHICH WILL HAVE HIM ? A Vaude- 
ville. 1 male. 2 female char. 

THE WIFE'S SECRET. APlayinSAct* 

Br Geo. W. T,ovell. 10 male, 2 fomale char. 

YOUR LIFE'S IN DANGER. A Karo« L. 

1 Act. By J. ii. Morton. 8 male, 3 female char. 



WALTER H. BAKER & 00., Publishers, Boston, Mass 

P. O. Box 2843. 



